


Fantasies Come True

by DaisyErina



Category: Avengers, Once Upon A Time - Fandom, Supernatural, hobbit - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7089250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyErina/pseuds/DaisyErina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of your favorite characters come to life in various scenarios.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chain Letter - Peter Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You fall asleep thinking about Once Upon a Time and you're not alone when you wake up.

**Fantasies Come True**  
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters but I own some of the ideas. This was inspired by these posts I’ve been seeing like “Repost and *insert character here* will appear in your bedroom” and things like that. All the ideas and characters will be in this one book, but the stories won’t be connected. They will all be more than one chapter long, because I want relationships to develop instead of being instant like in my one shots, and stories of the same series will have the same title.

 **Chain Letter – Peter Pan**  
You lied in bed, eyes glued to the dim light emanating from the screen of your cell phone. You held your phone in one hand while the thumb of your other was scrolling through the recent pins appearing on your Pinterest feed. This was how you calmed yourself down and woke yourself up. You’d spend a good half hour browsing the recent posts, and if you felt like you needed more pictures of attractive men from TV shows, you would search for your current favorite actor or character.  
Thanks to your recent love of Once Upon a Time, most of your Pinterest feed was filled with photos and GIFs of Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and Prince Charming. You’d never had a crush on any of those characters before Once, but now that they were played by attractive actors, you were happy to conform.  
The last pin you saw had a picture of Pan, complete with his dark eyes and sinister grin, with the caption, “Repin and this boy will appear in your bedroom to take you to Neverland.” You didn’t believe it, of course, but you never passed up an excuse to pin pictures of Robbie Kay, and it was a funny idea.

When you awoke the next morning, there was a soft weight settled over your torso and a warmth pressed against your side. It took you a minute to realize that this was a not a normal happening upon waking up. Your eyes widened as you turned your head to face the intruder of your apartment and, more importantly, your bed.  
Beside you was a very familiar boy with sandy blond hair and lightly tanned skin. You would recognize his peaceful face anywhere, and the scrap of dark emerald shirt that was visible from beneath your feather comforter only confirmed your suspicions.  
Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, a million questions running through your head. Was this really Robbie Kay? Or, more perplexing – was it really Peter Pan? Why was he in your bedroom? How did he get into your apartment? How had you slept through whatever methods he used to find you?  
Your staring woke him, and he let out a soft yawn, snuggling closer against you. His arms tightened around your waist as his green eyes fluttered open, his head lifting to look at you.  
Instead of his signature smirk, a soft, genuine smile fell on his lips. He seemed to be at peace with his current position, his head nestled into your neck and his arms secured around your waist, one leg tangled between yours as he basically trapped you in your own bed.  
“Good morning,” he mumbled softly, and you tried not to melt at the silkiness of his sleepy voice.  
“What are you doing in my apartment?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.  
He chuckled and raised himself up, using one arm to support his weight. “You wished for me.”  
You stared at him incredulously? “I did what?”  
His other hand found your cheek, cupping it and gently tracing patterns on your skin. You tried not to lean into his touch.  
“Last night, did you, what’s the word, repost a picture of me that said doing so would end with me coming to your home to take you away?”  
Your eyes widened. “That stuff’s not real. It was a joke. I reposted it because it was funny.”  
His smile fell. “So you did not want me to visit you?”  
“I didn’t mean that,” you replied softly. What more could you say? Were you really going to confess your love to a fictional character? Though, you supposed, if he was lying in your bed, he wasn’t really fictional, was he?  
“How are you here?” you inquired. “I thought you were just a character from a TV show.”  
“Many of your ‘TV shows’ are real,” he explained. “I’m one of them. Neverland is real, too.”  
“Really?” you breathed.  
He nodded, his smile returning. “I would love to take you there. That’s why I’m here. You shared the photo of me, which called me to your home. But, if I’m honest, I was interested in you long before that.”  
“What do you mean?” you wondered, sitting up so that you were eye-level with him. “How could you be interested in me?”  
“Because those characters are real, we can hear when people are talking about us. It’s like praying to an angel. Once you say their name, they know you’re talking about them. So every time you’ve mentioned my name, I’ve been alerted. I like to keep an eye on my fans. They amuse me. But you… You intrigue me.”  
You felt a rush of embarrassment at the thought of him listening to you fangirl over the Neverland episodes. Could your favorite characters really hear whenever you spoke of them? Part of you hoped not. That could be humiliating. But part of you was flattered that you managed you catch his attention in return.  
“How do I intrigue you?” you asked. His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin. You finally gave in to the fluttering in your belly, tilting your head to lean into his hand. His skin felt amazing against yours.  
“You always defend me,” he mused. “I’m not exactly a nice person, especially in regards to the show. Yet I’m still your favorite.”  
You felt your blush returning. “I kind of have a thing for villains.”  
He chuckled, leaning in close and resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve checked in on you a few times. I’ve flown to your window during the night and watched you. A couple of times you were asleep, but most of the time you were watching my show on your… that,” he paused, gesturing to your laptop which sat sleeping on your desk. “I always thought that you were beautiful, and cute, and I wanted to know you.”  
A small smile fell on your lips. “Really?”  
He dipped his head, nudging your nose with his. You tilted your head up curiously, but before you could question him, he pressed his lips to yours. You gasped softly against his mouth before returning the kiss. The hand on your cheek slid back to tangle in your hair, tugging gently, keeping you close.  
“Remind me to always repost pictures of you,” you giggled. He chuckled against your lips before kissing you again.  
“Maybe I should just stay here so you don’t have to wait for me to come back,” he mused.  
“I like that idea,” you agreed with a soft nod. You fell back against your pillows with Pan hovering above you. The hand that wasn’t in your hair came to rest beside your head, holding up his weight as he showed you just how interested in you he was.


	2. Draw Me to Life - Clint Barton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when your drawing of Hawkeye disappears and you find the real Hawkeye standing in your bathroom?

**Draw Me to Life – Clint Barton**  
A/N: I didn’t have a good reason to make this romantic in the beginning, so I’ll make it a longer-than-one-chapter story. I don’t know how long, but it will be longer than this.

Graphite pencil flew across sketchpad paper with ease, lining and darkening and shading beautifully. The pencil hardly left the pad, connecting one line to another, bringing the whole drawing together like a jigsaw puzzle. Darker lines here, a shadow there, erase that spot to bring in a little more light.  
You finally lifted your hand, smiling down at your creation. Glancing back up at the movie playing on your TV, you compared your drawing to its inspiration – Jeremy Renner as Hawkeye in The Avengers. Jeremy was one of your favorite actors, so Hawkeye immediately became your favorite character. You loved to draw fictional characters, giving them your own style and amplifying their personality. You mostly drew characters from The Avengers, like Hawkeye and Black Widow and Captain America.   
You normally had an animated style all your own, a pleasant mix of reality, cartoon, and Japanese anime. This time, however, you opted for a more realistic approach. You studied photos of Renner to get the lines just right, sticking his hair in the right directions and adding the perfect shade to his eyes.   
Content with your drawing, you set your sketchpad down and rose from your bed, shuffling out of the room. You were craving a snack, so you headed into the kitchen to fetch some cheese, crackers, and iced tea. While you prepared your food, you recalled an episode of Charmed where a young boy had the power to bring his drawings to life, and he turned the Charmed Ones into superheroes. You hummed softly to yourself, wishing such a power existed. You could bring so many wonderful characters to life if all you had to do was draw them.  
But magic didn’t exist, so you would have to settle for fan art and fan fiction and pretending all of your favorite universes were real.

Upon returning to your room, you were confused to find your sketchpad open to a blank page. You had certainly left it on your most recent drawing. Your confusion only deepened when you heard rummaging in the bathroom that was connected to your room. Concerned and cautious, you set your plate and glass on the bedside table and picked up the wooden dowel you had lying atop your dresser. You’d bought it for a cosplay weapon, but since it had yet to be turned into such, it made a great bat.  
“Shit,” a male voice cursed, and a chill ran up your spine at how familiar it sounded. You burst into the bathroom, dowel raised, only to stop in your tracks, your jaw falling open in shock.  
There, standing naked in your bathroom, desperately trying to wrap a towel around his waist, stood a man who looked very much like Jeremy Renner.  
“Jeremy Renner?” you greeted awkwardly, still holding the dowel.  
“Jeremy what?” the man replied. “No, my name is Clint.”  
You simply stared at him.  
He extended a hand, the other hand clutching the fabric of the towel. “Clint Barton. You may know me as Hawkeye. I work for the Avengers.”  
You dropped the dowel. “Clint Barton. You’re serious?”  
He frowned. “Why the hell would I lie about my name?”  
You turned your head back to your bedroom, your gaze falling upon your mysteriously blank sketchpad. “I did this…”  
“Did what?” he asked. “Did you bring me here? Where am I, anyway? Can you send me back?”  
“I just… I drew a picture of you… from the movie… and now you’re here…”  
“What movie?” he asked, following you into your room. “Did you draw me naked?”  
A blush stained your cheeks. “No! I only drew your face. You’re probably naked because I didn’t draw you a body so I couldn’t draw you clothes.”  
“Do you have any clothes I can borrow?”  
You bit your lip, trying to avert your gaze from his toned chest, and shook your head. “Nope. All my clothes are for girls.”  
“Guess I have to stay in this towel,” he sighed, leaning against the wall. “So what was the movie you were drawing me from?”  
“It’s called The Avengers,” you replied, suddenly realizing how strange it must sound to a character from it. “It’s a movie about, well, the Avengers. You, Black Widow, Iron Man. It’s about how you came together to fight Loki.”  
“There’s a movie about that?” he asked incredulously. “Who would watch it??”  
You giggled. “Everyone. It’s really popular.”  
He hummed in response, his brows furrowing in confusion as to why anyone would want to watch one of the hardest battles he’d ever fought. It sounded to him like someone wanting to watch a war documentary.  
“Do you know how to send me back?” he inquired.  
You shook your head. “No idea. I didn’t even know you could come to life.”  
“Has this not happened before?”  
“Never. I didn’t think it was possible. I watch movies about magic but I don’t believe it really exists. I guess I was wrong.”  
He brushed past you and sat on your bed. “What do we do then?”  
You sat beside him. “I have no idea.”  
He smirked and leaned in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I have a few.”  
Your furious blush returned and you stood abruptly. “How about we go to the store and get you some clothes? We should disguise you, though. Put on a hat and sunglasses. People will think you’re Jeremy Renner and that will just be a mess.”  
“Who’s Jeremy Renner?” he asked as you rummaged through your closet, pulling out some old sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt. “I thought you said you didn’t have any clothes for me,” he reminded as you threw the clothing at him.  
“They were my brother’s,” you replied simply. “I forgot I had them. It’s all I’ve got and we can’t exactly take you to the store in a towel.”  
“We can do other things,” he smirked, dropping the towel without a care in the world that you were standing a few feet away. You looked away, covering your eyes with your hand.  
“No, we really can’t,” you murmured. A million fangirl thoughts whirled through your mind, thinking back on all of the fan fiction you’d read about similar situations. You tried to push them away before you got too distracted and gave into his insinuations.  
“Come on,” you said, pulling on his arm when he was finally dressed. “Let’s go shopping.”


	3. Bath Bomb - Bucky Barnes

**Bath Bomb – Bucky Barnes**  
A/N: The alliteration was unintentional. I got this idea from a pin on Pinterest.

You carried your supplies to the bathroom, ensuring that you had everything for a nice, sensual, relaxing bath before getting the water started. Your fresh clothes were folded neatly and waiting on the counter, your favorite candle was waiting to be lit on the edge of the tub, a bag of “Relax and Relief” Epsom salts sat on the floor by the tub, and in your hand was a lighter and your new “Stress Relief” bath bomb. Your mother had put together a care basket for you as a birthday present, and in it was a handful of bathroom essentials – shampoo, conditioner, candles, bubble bath, lotion, and bath bombs.  
Whenever you took a bath, you liked to go all out with candles, salts, and bubbles. Regular baths were no fun, and they certainly weren’t relaxing. If you were just trying to get clean, you usually opted for a shower, but when you wanted to lie down and soak in the tub, washing away the day’s stress, you had to have all your goodies.  
The water was now running, a pleasant temperature that was just a few degrees hotter than tepid. You knew that if you got it too hot, you’d end up sweating, and your bath wouldn’t last long enough to be of any use.   
You stripped down, tossing your dirty clothes of the day into the basket that sat against one wall of the bathroom. You took your lighter and lit your candle, setting it on a stool so it wouldn’t accidentally fall into the tub. You then poured a healthy amount of salts into the running water, sighing softly at the soothing aroma of mint and eucalyptus that emanated from the bag.  
Last was the bath bomb. It had an Avengers sticker on it, promoting something about a hidden prize inside. You figured it just had one of those tiny action figures in it. It smelled amazing, and there was a red star across the side of it, reminding you of Bucky Barnes’s metal arm. Shrugging, you tossed the bomb in, watching it fizzle as you dipped your feet into the water. A sigh left your lips at the perfect temperature, and you slowly eased down into a sitting position. When the water was high enough, you shut it off and lied back, your tied up hair acting as a makeshift pillow against the wall of the tub. You closed your eyes and let your arms fall at your sides, plunging into the water.  
Your eyes snapped open when you felt splashing beside you and heard someone cough. Sitting at the other end of the tub was a man who looked like Sebastian Stan and was dressed like the Winter Soldier, complete with a shiny silver left arm.  
“What the hell?” you shrieked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Who are you?”  
“Bucky,” he replied in a delightfully brooding voice.  
“Bucky?” you repeated in disbelief. “Like the movie character?”  
He tilted his head in adorable confusion. “The what?”  
You shook your head. “Never mind. How did you get in my bathroom?”  
“I just… appeared…” he replied unsurely.  
You thought back to the bath bomb with the red star across it, and the sticker’s promise of a prize waiting inside. Was this man your prize? Had he come from the bath bomb?  
He stared at you, soaked and confused. His long hair was dripping into his eyes as he looked at you. You could see understandable confusion in his baby blues, but there was something carnal there too. You weren’t sure what his expression meant, but you liked the chill it sent up your spine.  
You sat up and scooted closer to him, placing a hand on his chest, careful to keep your own chest covered. “So your name is Bucky?”  
He nodded, his gaze holding yours. “What’s yours?”  
“(y/n),” you whispered. He leaned in and rested his forehead on yours. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He tilted his head and went for it, pressing his lips to yours, not even giving you a chance to pull away. You wouldn’t have taken it if he had. You responded immediately, your hand on his chest sliding up to tangle in his dark hair. His teeth grazed your lower lip, pulling on it, earning a pleasured gasp from you. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, exploring it like a thirsty man finally finding water. You moaned against your will, which only seemed to spur him on. His flesh hand rested on your cheek, keeping your lips connected, while his metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it, causing him to growl against your lips. You leaned back until you were lying down as you had been before, your head against the slanted wall of the tub. You were grateful for the bubbles covering your lady bits. Bucky hovered above you, his eyes on your face, his metal arm holding his body up while his flesh hand caressed your cheek.  
“You went from questioning me to kissing me in a matter of seconds,” he recalled with a smirk. “Why?”  
“When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade,” you replied. “So, when life makes Bucky Barnes appear in your bathtub, you take advantage.”  
He grinned and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You let one hand tangle in his hair while the other travelled down his chest. Your fingers bunched up the fabric of his shirt, wishing it wasn’t in the way. He got the memo and broke the kiss so he could sit up and pull the fabric over his head. You marveled at his chiseled chest, running your hands down his torso as he leaned in close again. He let out a soft sigh at the feeling, gasping when you added your nails. He kissed you roughly, tangling one hand in your hair, tugging on it so your head tilted back. He continued his kisses down your neck, pausing here and there to nip and suck the sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan, which seemed to be the last barrier. He ground his hips against yours, all questioning pushed aside, focused only on giving you the attention you deserved. You spent the evening at his mercy, his hands groping and caressing, his lips kissing and nibbling, eliciting moans and gasps from your mouth. The water eventually turned cold, but you didn’t notice, your body heat increased thanks to the man above you.


	4. Wishful Thinking - Lucifer

**Wishful Thinking – Lucifer**

Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you replied to an online message. You and your best friend were roleplaying Supernatural, and the responses she sent you acted as a type of therapy for you to deal with the stress of life. Your heart melted as you read her response. Your fictional love interest was Lucifer himself, and you loved imagining that your roleplay was real and that the fallen angel was beside you, wrapping you in his arms and wings.  
You let out a sigh, coming back to reality. You were lonely, with few friends and no real love interests. All you had was the comforting arms of fandom, and your Maine coon, (pet/n).  
After you finished your crackers and tea, a yawn took over your lips, stretching your jaw and making you shake your head. You wrote a quick reply to your friend, telling her that you were going to bed and that you would reply tomorrow. She bid you goodnight and you closed the lid of your laptop, setting it down on the bedside table. You rose from your bed, taking your dishes to the kitchen and setting them in the sink. You then returned to your room and climbed under the covers, turning off the light and burrowing yourself under a pile of blankets. As you fell to sleep, you thought about the roleplay with your friend and how cool it would be if the characters from Supernatural were real.

You awoke the next morning, surprisingly warm. It was chilly outside and the heat in your apartment was less than desirable, but you were nice and toasty in your flannel pajama bottoms and long-sleeved shirt. You wondered how you could be so warm when you’d managed to kick the covers down to your knees… And then you noticed that the warmth was coming from the other side of the bed.  
Your eyes shot open and you looked around your room. You were lying in your side, and the scenery was the same. You could see your white walls and your dark brown nightstand on which your lamp rested. You slowly rolled onto your back, looking across the room where your desk sat, topped with your laptop and writing supplies. It was then that you realized a weight on your waist and you looked down to discover a muscular arm slung across your abdomen. Your gaze wandered up the arm to the shoulder it attached to, following that to the chest, head, and torso of the person beside you.  
He looked an awful lot like Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer.  
You let out a shriek in surprise and bolted into a sitting position. Looking at the man beside you, you found his eyes open and a smirk set on his lips.  
“That’s an interesting way to say ‘good morning’,” he commented.  
“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?” you demanded, trying to be intimidating as you clutched the blanket to your chest.  
He chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious? You should know who I am. You’re my biggest fan.”  
Your face flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
He sat up and looked more closely at you. “Did you or did you not pray to Lucifer last night?”  
Your blush deepened. “I did no such thing.”  
He laughed. “Maybe not directly, doll, but you most certainly did. You were thinking about me, very intently, and it summoned me like a prayer.”  
You thought back to last night, how involved you’d been in your roleplay before you’d gone to bed, and how you imagined what it’d be like if the Supernatural angels were real. You bit your lip in realization that you had accidentally prayed to Lucifer.  
“So, wait,” you said, taking it all in. “You’re Lucifer? For real? Like in the show?”  
He nodded. “All us angels are real, doll.”  
You blew out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting that.”  
Suddenly there was a hot breath against your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. A warm nose gently nuzzled into your sensitive neck, causing your eyes to flutter closed.  
“Are you not happy about my visit?” he breathed against your skin, extinguishing all possibility of a coherent response.  
“I… Uhm…”  
He chuckled into your neck. “Do you want me to leave?”  
All you could do was shake your head.  
He suddenly pulled away, ceasing his teasing. He pressed a tender to kiss to your cheek and looked at you with a domestic smile. “How about I made us breakfast?”  
You stared at him dreamily before snapping out of your fantasy state and nodding. “Breakfast sounds good.”  
“What do you feel like?” he inquired.  
You shrugged. “Bacon sounds good.”  
He nodded and snapped his fingers. A tray of food appeared on your lap. There was a mug of steaming coffee along with a glass of orange juice, a plate of toast, a plate of eggs, and a plate of bacon. You picked up the coffee, finding it already sweetened to your liking, and took a satisfying sip. You then looked at Lucifer.  
“Angels don’t eat?”  
He shook his head. “We can if we want to, but it’s not required for our survival. Just like we don’t need sleep, but we can if we get bored.”  
“So you were pretending?” you guessed. “You were already awake when I woke up?”  
He nodded with a chuckle. “I thought it would be weird if you woke up to me staring at you.”  
You nodded, flattered by his consideration. You munched on a piece of bacon as you looked at him. “Why did you come? Surely you have a dozen other fans praying to you.”  
“None of them are as beautiful as you are,” he replied, only adding to your flaming cheeks. He kissed your face with a chuckle in his throat. “I can hear what people say. True, I have other fans, but you’re different. You’re not as… hysterical… as my other fans. You’re more casual, but still faithful.”  
You nodded slowly. You didn’t exactly notice when he slipped his arm around your shoulders, nor did you stop yourself from leaning into his side. His hand rested atop your head, gently carding his fingers through your hair, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting the soothing sensation wash over you.   
When you were done eating, Lucifer snapped his fingers and the tray of food disappeared. He lied back against the pillows and opened his arms, inviting you to join him. He smiled softly as you snuggled into his side, your head on his chest and your arms around his torso. You fell back to sleep in his arms, and he was content to lie beside you, relaxing until you woke again.


	5. Draw Me to Life - Clint Barton

**Draw Me to Life – Clint Barton**

“So who’s Jeremy Renner?” Clint inquired as he sat in the passenger seat of your car on the way to the store.  
“He’s an actor,” you replied. “He represents you in the movie about the Avengers.”  
He nodded slowly in understanding. “So all of my friends are characters in this movie?”  
It was your turn to nod.   
“And no one knows we really exist?”  
“Exactly,” you agreed. “Everyone thinks you’re just comic book characters. Some of us have wished really hard that you were real, but this is the first time anything’s ever come from it.”  
He smirked. “Have you wished really hard?”  
A blush stained your cheeks. “No, of course not,” you lied. You quickly pulled into the parking lot and parked, turning off your car. Before he could press the issue, you got out of the car and slammed the door, walking towards the store without waiting for Clint to follow.

You sat on the bench that sat outside the dressing room, keeping an eye on the cart full of clothes that Clint had picked out. You had helped him develop a nice style and if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see what he looked like in the button down shirts and fitted jeans he was trying on.   
“What do you think?” came Clint’s voice from the dressing room to your left. You turned to see a shirtless Clint standing in the doorway, showing off very fitting jeans that were most definitely the right size. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried not to let him see your eyes linger on his toned torso.  
“They fit better than the last pair,” you choked out, and you didn’t miss the smirk on his lips as he turned and sauntered back into the changing room. Every time he tried on a pair of pants, he made a point of showing them to you sans his shirt. You tried not to give him what he wanted, but he was too attractive for you to not look.  
He came out again a few moments later, this time covering his top half in a very flattering cotton button-down. It was light blue, accenting his eyes and contrasting beautifully against his tanned skin. He even rolled the sleeves up – your weakness.   
You cleared your throat when you realized you were staring. “Yeah, uh… That one’s nice…”  
He grinned. “Better than the last one?”  
Your brain stalled. The last three times he’d emerged from the dressing room, he hadn’t been wearing a shirt. What the hell was the last shirt he put on?  
“Yeah, totally,” you managed, watching him retreat around the corner to change back into his own clothes. 

On your way back to your apartment, you stopped at a nearby café. You needed caffeine if you were going to house Clint Barton, and he was more than happy to agree. You didn’t have anything to disguise him other than a pair of sunglasses and hiding him in the crowd, so you warned him beforehand to follow your lead if anyone approached you.  
You stood in line with Clint at your side, your arm linked around his to try and deter prying eyes. You rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. You knew he took pride in your close proximity and you tried to ignore how much you enjoyed having him close and breathing in his cologne.   
Sure enough, as you neared the front of the line, a group of teen girls noticed your company and giggled like twelve-year-olds.   
You nudged Clint’s side. “You know how I said someone might mistake you for Jeremy Renner?”  
He nodded, following your gaze over to the group of girls. “I’m guessing them?”  
You stepped forward to order drinks for the both of you. Since he’d never been to this café, you ordered two of your favorites so he could try one. While you waited, you led him to a table and sat down, watching as the girls plucked up the courage to approach him.  
“Smile and play nice and they’ll go away,” you instructed.  
“Hey there,” Clint greeted with a cheeky smile. The girls giggled like toddlers.  
“Can we get a picture with you?” one of them asked.  
He glanced at you for confirmation and nodded when you smiled. They posed around him, grinning ear-to-ear, while you handled one of their phones to take a picture. They all thanked Clint profusely before shuffling out the door.   
“That wasn’t so bad,” he mused as you led him out of the café, heading out to your car.   
“That was only a couple of them,” you countered, heading back to your apartment.

The only downside to taking Clint clothes shopping was that he was now dressed in very fitting, very flattering clothing that made it hard for you to deny your attraction to him. He knew it too, as made evident by the constant smirk on his lips every time he looked at you. He had caught you staring at him, admiring the way his muscles shifted against the fabric of his shirt and the way his jeans hung low on his hips, leaving just enough to the imagination. You knew you had been caught a few times, and you always tried to avoid the subject. You would quickly direct your attention to something on TV or the food you were cooking or anything that wasn’t related to his very enticing body.   
You had no idea how to send him home, and as the days past with him spending all of his time with you, he didn’t seem very interested in going back. You weren’t ready to admit that you wanted him to stay. Deep down, you were content with waking up every morning to find him in your apartment, watching TV or reading a book or cooking you food. It had only been a few days, but you liked having him around, and you knew he liked being there.


End file.
